


Not All Hero's Get A Happy Ending

by Lady_Poison_Heart (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Sad Ending, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lady_Poison_Heart
Summary: Stiles tried to smile into the mirror, tried to be happy with the protruding ribs and pale skin as his shaky hands and numb, purple and bitten fingers that traced the dips between his ribs, traveling down into the cave that was his stomach. But he could not. This wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to cry, but he had no tears left----It was a Thursday when it happened, stiles heart had stopped, right in the middle of third period English. All the wolves had known something was wrong, his heart had been somehow more erratic than usual so they had been extra vigilant of the human. But then it just, stopped.





	Not All Hero's Get A Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> See notes at end, read the tags please, this does not have a happy ending

Stiles honestly wasn't sure where it had started. Where he had began to shed pounds like clothing. Where he began to measured his worth by the number on the scale. No one noticed as the words “i'm not hungry”, “I already ate” or “it's the new medicine” spilled from his lips in a broken mantra. Stiles supposed that maybe there was noone to notice, his father was always at work, and scott had been swept into a world of werewolves and love and danger. So no, there was nobody to notice. So the weight kept dropping, sort of. In reality, it spiked and changed as often as his moods did. Within months, stiles had been to his highest weight of 180ib, to his lowest of 120ib, and now he was back to 147ib, his starting weight. The guilt pulled and tore at his mind, before settling heavily onto his shoulders. To his relief, the weight quickly began dropping again, but the weight on his shoulders only grew heavier.

\-----

Stiles tried to smile into the mirror, tried to be happy with the protruding ribs and pale skin as his shaky hands and numb, purple and bitten fingers that traced the dips between his ribs, traveling down into the cave that was his stomach. But he could not. This wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to cry, but he had no tears left. A shaky, stuttering breath escaped his lips as he moved up the mountain that was his hip bones, he traced the bruise, purple, and green and yellow until it disappeared below his boxers. He'd bumped his hip on someone’s desk just a few hours ago, and he knew from experience it would be at least a week before it disappeared. Turning, stiles bent his arms back, traced over each section of his spine. The bruising was even worse there, but the proud feeling that swelled in his chest made up for that, this was a show of his strength, and his commitment. But the feeling was quickly washed away as stiles brain blanked and stars and darkness burst in his vision. He reached out blindly, carefully parting his feet until he stood in a more stable position. Relief washed over him as his fingers met the bathroom wall, and he shuffled cautiously over, moving until he was seated, his back was pressed against the wall. Stiles distantly notes that his vision had yet to return, not that this was an uncommon occurrence to him, it just never usually lasted this long. Confusions burst in his belly, along with anxiety, as his stomach heaved and his pulse jerked and stuttered in his ears. He wasn't sure what happened next, although he remembers vaguely noting that his vision had yet to clear.

\-----

By the time stiles had managed to drag himself back into consciousness it was dark, the bathroom light only by the moon as it shone into the room. But even that light disappeared as a shadow passed over it. Stiles knew he should be worried, passing out for the second time since Monday was a bad thing. Especially considering it was only Wednesday. Or stiles supposed it could be early Thursday. Stiles batted around blindly in the dark, searching for his watch. He didn't trust himself to stand up yet, but was to impatient for the clouds to move on. Finally Stiles hand landed on said watch, his fingers curling around the band. The band that, even in its tightest form, continued to slip of his wrist. It took him a moment to recognise the numbers on the screen. 12:23 AM. So it was Thursday. It took him a while to get up, but he did it. One sever headrush later and a brief gagging session as he tried to puke up the content of his stomach. Although said stomach should be empty since he hadn't eaten anything other than black coffee, diet coke and a rice cake in four days, (rice cake eaten after Monday's passing out session in the school bathroom)

When he managed to get up he began moving towards the kitchen, pausing a few times on the way before giving in to the urge to binge. Two tubs of ice cream and half the contents of the kitchen later he found himself back in the bathroom, this time with half his hand down his throat. Twenty minutes later the uncomfortable full feeling was gone, only to be replaced by guilt and the burning in his throat and nasal.  

\----

Scott knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what to do about it. So Instead of confronting his best friend, he just ignored him, and thus the issue. Ignored the shaky fingers, the way his rib cage stuck out, the suffocating smell of decay that followed. Just like he had ignored the screaming that had drilled its way into his skull in the months before his parents divorce. He supposed he was good at it, ignoring his issues until they went away, but the coping mechanism was what had kept him together since that night in the woods. The rest of the pack didn't seem to care either, and when it got bad enough for them to notice, they eagerly swallowed stiles half-hearted excuses before returning to their ignorance. But Scott was not so ignorant, no matter how much he wanted to be.

\----

It was a Thursday when it happened, stiles heart had stopped, right in the middle of third period English. All the wolves had known something was wrong, his heart had been somehow more erratic than usual so they had been extra vigilant of the human. But then it just, stopped. His body had flopped limply out of his seat and within seconds their teacher had been there, shaking his thin form briefly as she attempted to wake him. Before her hand pressed against his neck, the space just under his jaw. They knew she would not find anything, not a flicked of a pulse. His funeral was small and quiet, his only other living relative was his father, and no one had really liked him, he was too loud, too lively, too much. The pack came, of course, and they grieved. But after the grief came the guilt, the overbearing, crushing feelings of guilt. Within a week the sheriff was gone to, bullet through the brain as he joined his family, ending the stilinski bloodline. Soon everyone know, and over the next half of the year they would have three whole school presentations, two on eating disorders and one on mental health. Within a year the pack had halved as they tore themselves apart, but eventually they became happy. Got married, got a job, had a kid. All accept Scott, who stood alone on a bridge. Gun and wolfsbane laced bullets in hand, his mind set and his body cold as water sept into his skin. That night he joined the brother he could not, did not save.

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is killed by his eating disorder, the sheriff kills himself, a few years later Scott gives into his guilt and follows them


End file.
